The Price of Pride

Elvish translations

Estel – hope
Estel i eneth nín – my name is Estel
Gwanur - brother
Mae govannen – well met
Meldir – friend (male)

Chapter 24


I was hunting, taking some time for myself, when next my life turned upside down. As promised, I had visited Arwen often in Lórien for it was days, not weeks, from Mirkwood. This day, though, I traveled for the pure pleasure of it. I had no fixed destination, no time when I had to arrive. My father could farspeak me if I was needed at home, but until he did, I was finally free to explore the beauty of Arda.

The sounds of battle drew me away from the deer I was tracking. With the experience of years to guide me, I took to the trees to investigate. I advanced cautiously, trying to see who was fighting and perhaps why. What I saw when I could finally see the fighters caused my heart to turn over in my chest for the second time in my life. A young man fought a pack of Orcs in the clearing. He was outnumbered, but there was no panic in his demeanor. He fought calmly, dispatching one Orc after another. Even as I fired the first arrow, I registered that this young man was wearing Elvish garments. I fired and reached for another arrow, noting with approval that the young warrior did not turn to seek me out, keeping his attention firmly fixed on the fight. As I fired again, I recognized the style of the swordplay. However unlikely it seemed, I recognized Glorfindel’s teachings in this warrior’s movements. As I prepared to fire again, two more figures joined the fray below me. I did not need to think to recognize the fluid forms of the Imladris twins. I had fought often enough with Elladan and Elrohir to know them even in the blur of battle. They joined the man against the Orcs, dispatching their enemies with deadly efficiency.

When all the Orcs were dead, Elladan retrieved one of my arrows from a corpse. He tossed the arrow to Elrohir. “It appears we had help, gwanur,” he said in Elvish.

“I know this arrow,” Elrohir replied, beginning to search for me.

“Will I forever be guarding your backs, then, mellyn?” I asked, still speaking Elvish, as I dropped from my perch in the tree.

“Mae govannen, Legolas!” Elrohir exclaimed, clasping my shoulder in the warrior’s greeting that I returned.

“Mae govannnen,” I replied. “How is it that you fight side by side with a man?”

“They fight side by side with their brother,” the youth answered, turning to face me and I got my first good look at Aragorn, son of Arathorn, future King of Gondor and Arnor. For although the twins called him by his Elvish name, he became Aragorn to me long ago. He was as fair of face as he was of form, dark-haired, with a penetrating stare even at that age. I felt again that tightening in my chest that I had only ever felt when looking at Arwen.

“Brother?” I asked, surprised, looking from one twin to the other for confirmation. Certainly the Man had spoken with all the fluency of an Elf, but I thought I would have heard if Elrond had had another child.

“Estel is our foster-brother,” Elladan said with a smile.

“Estel?” I asked. Hope. It seemed a strange name to me.

“Uma,” the youth returned, obviously beginning to take offense. “Estel i eneth nín.”

“Mae govannen, Estel,” I said, offering him the same warrior’s greeting I had offered his brothers. I was expecting to feel his hand on my shoulder. I was not expecting the immediate effect that touch had on me, the same effect that Arwen had. I had never felt that way with the lovers I had known before Arwen. Only with her. I wondered what it meant, such an electric contact from someone I had only just met.

I forced down my reaction and turned back to my friends. “You are a long way from home, mellyn. What brings you this way?”

“The same as always. Hunting Orcs,” Elladan replied, beginning to set up their camp. “Only now there are three of us instead of only two.”

As he spoke, Elrohir and Aragorn excused themselves to wash off the grime of battle in a nearby stream. When they were out of earshot, I spoke again. “I must admit, I am curious. I had not heard that Elrond had fostered a child.”

“He has been with us for seventeen years.”

“He is still a child, then.”

“Not for a year now. Men reach their majority at eighteen, and he did not come to us until he was two. Why the questions, Legolas?”

“I told you. I was curious. I usually have news from Imladris, but I had heard nothing of this.”

“I know little of his story, and he knows even less I think. Ada took him in after his father was killed by Orcs. That is really all we were ever told,” Elladan volunteered.

“He fights well.”

“Uma. He has not the speed of an Elf, but there is power in his strokes that is hard to resist.” I eyed Elladan askance. Had he just implied what I thought he had implied, or was I reading too much into his words because of my own state? I decided not to react, not wanting to give Elladan too much information. After all, I had only just met Aragorn.

Before he could say more, Elrohir and Aragorn returned from the stream. Neither one was wearing a tunic as they had washed their dirty tunics and had not taken the clean ones with them. I had met Men before Aragorn, but that was my first chance to observe the finer differences between Men and Elves. Elrohir was the taller of the two, but Aragorn was broader through the shoulders. Even at nineteen, his chest was roped with muscle, visible muscle unlike the more subtle muscles of the Elves. To my surprise, I realized that his chest was covered with a light dusting of hair. It was so different from what I was used to, my fingers itched to touch. I noticed as well that his legs were more obviously muscular than Elvish bodies. Oh yes, I longed to touch. He gave no sign that he noticed my appraisal, but some of what I was feeling must have shown on my face for Elladan nudged me with his boot.

I turned to look at him quizzically. “Watch your eyes, meldir,” was all he said.